


take my darkest fears and play them

by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication)



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-Poly, Torture, Whump, Whump Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/pseuds/bemusedlybespectacled
Summary: As it turns out, kidnapping is an excellent emotional catalyst.Written for The Whump Exchange, June 2017.





	take my darkest fears and play them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanithrea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanithrea/gifts).



If he weren’t tied up, Mick would have kicked himself. After having his apartment broken into multiple times by vampires and humans alike, he probably should have taken the hint and moved. But he hadn’t, and now he was on the floor of a motel in the middle of nowhere, minus his shirt, silver chains burning at his wrists and ankles, while some guy kept talking at him.

“Mr. St. John,” the man was saying. “I’m not really interested in hurting you. It’s all very simple. We know there are other vampires in Los Angeles. All we’re asking for are a few names. Just a few.”

Mick breathed heavily, trying to ignore the pain. “I know what you’re asking for,” he said. “But I can’t tell you anything.”

The man–and he _was_ a man, because a bunch of humans had gotten the drop on him, how embarrassing was that?–sat in the desk chair above Mick. He was dressed in an ordinary suit and tie, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Mick was beneath him, he might have passed for a businessman about to get some work done on his laptop. One foot snapped out, hitting Mick in the jaw.

“We also know,” the man continued, as if Mick hadn’t spoken, “that your kind tend to form networks. Systems. Relationships. So any protestations you have–that you know no one, that you live alone–will not protect you. All we want, and all we will accept, are names.”

“How often does that work?” Mick asked. “The whole Jack Bauer thing.”

The man didn’t respond. Instead he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from the inner pocket of his suit.

Mick didn’t live through the witch hunts, but Josef did. “Here’s the really fucked-up thing,” he’d said once, when he was very drunk and very maudlin. “If you didn’t confess, that was proof that you were a witch and just stubborn and a liar, and they’d just kill you. But if you _did_ confess, that meant you could be useful to them. Because you could give up the names of the others, right?”

“Right,” Mick had said, not knowing where the conversation was going.

“So the moral of the story is,” Josef had said, taking another sip of expensive brandy, “you shouldn’t try be a hero. The people who threw their friends and neighbors under the bus got to live. The self-righteous bastards who insisted on their innocence just wound up dead.”

Mick had thought at the time that Josef’s interpretation of the story was needlessly cynical. He still thought that. Then again, he could see where Josef was coming from a bit better now.

The man lit the cigarette and took several long drags, as if he didn’t notice or care that Mick was below him, trying not to writhe in pain.

“You know, those are really bad for you,” Mick pointed out, breaking the silence.

“Hm? Oh, you’re right,” said the man, in a bored tone. “Well, then, I suppose I ought to...”

He put the cigarette out on Mick’s bared chest. Being so small, and lacking an open flame, it wasn’t enough to kill, but it _burned_. Mick wasn’t able to bite back a scream or prevent his eyes from rolling back, and he thrashed against the chains, which no longer hurt nearly as much as the acute pain of that fire. He knew that there was a tiny circle in the center of his chest that was now ash.

“Sir,” came a voice near the front door, “a word.”

The man stood up gracefully, turning on his heel and walking out without another word. The door closed behind him.

Mick breathed heavily, trying to calm down. If they were asking him for the names of the other L.A. vampires, that mean that they didn’t know where they were. But it wouldn’t take long for them to be found, even if Mick kept his mouth shut. Someone had to warn them.

Very carefully, he stood up. They’d chained his hands in front of him, but his ankles were bound together tightly. Slowly, he inched his way across the floor to the bed, then forced himself upright to sit on one of the beds. He picked up the handset equally slowly, dialing with shaking fingers. The phone rang once, twice. Then, “Hello?”

“Josef. Thank God.”

“Mick, if you’re going to go out on a case or have some broody vampire me-time, you need to tell your girlfriend,” Josef started to say. “She woke me up, even though it’s only ten in the morning–”

“Josef, listen to me, there isn’t time. I need you to warn the other vampires, tell them to get out of L.A. I don’t care where they go, but they need to get out. Beth, too, she knows too much, they’ll go after her–”

“Mick,” said Josef, the good humor evaporating from his voice, “what’s going on? Where are you?”

“You’re in danger,” Mick said, “there’s no _time_ , you need to get out, get _everyone_ out.”

“ _Mick_ ,” said Josef, but the door was opening; his time was up. Mick slammed the phone down onto the receiver with the last of his strength, hard enough to snap the receiver in half. He wasn’t going to take the chance that whoever was holding him might track Josef down by simply using redial.

The man entered the room, flanked by three others. Two grabbed each arm; the third pulled his head back by the hair. Mick weakly tried to shake them off, but the silver was taking its toll on him. He was going to pass out soon: he could feel it creeping at the corners of his brain.

“I’m sure you’re not going to tell us who it was you contacted just now,” the man said in the same bored tone. “But we have time. Why don’t you think about it, mull it over, see how you feel in a few hours?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Mick said.

The man chuckled. “You first.”

The last thing Mick felt was a stake piercing his chest right where the cigarette burn had been.

* * *

Josef lowered the phone from his ear. He was always pale, but Beth thought she saw the color drain from his face.

“What was that?” she asked.

“That was Mick,” said Josef, which wasn’t helpful at all.

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“The answer to that is ‘I don’t know’ and ‘no.’” Josef lifted up his phone again, dialing a different number into it. “Guillermo? Yes, I know, it’s daylight, but this is important. I need you to contact every vamp you know. Anyone who’s ever bought blood from you, every Cleaner you’ve ever used, that weird guy who never comes out of his basement and plays Guitar Hero all the time–yeah, him… Look, Mick’s been taken.” A pause. “No, I don’t know, that’s the problem.” Another pause. “I’m just telling you to beef up your security. Don’t worry about evacuating just yet; the last thing we need is a panic on our hands. ...Yeah. Same to you.” He hung up.

“What’s going on?” Beth demanded.

“I don’t know,” Josef said grimly. “And frankly that bugs me. All I can say is that someone has Mick, that they’re capable of taking down a vampire, and that they’ve scared him enough that he felt he needed to warn me. Could I borrow your phone?”

“What? Oh, sure,” said Beth. She dug it out of her purse and passed it to him.

Josef dialed into Beth’s phone with one hand and pulled up his own call history with the other. “England. I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and look something up for me. Yes, now, this is why I pay you. Trust me, this is important. Look, I need you to get a location for this,” he said, rattling off the number. “Call me when you find it.” He hung up, then seemed to notice Beth staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Beth, “you’re just dealing with this very well.”

“It’s a threat,” said Josef. “I’m good at dealing with threats. Come on.” He beckoned for her to follow him.

“Really?” said Beth. “No, ‘it’s too dangerous, Beth’?” She lowered her voice in an imitation of Mick’s baritone growl.

“Of course not,” said Josef. “I have no idea what the threat is, and I’ll probably need some non-vampire help. I know you’re not squeamish, since you were fine with ordering a hit on a paparazzo–”

“–we swore we’d never speak of that again–”

“And he’s _your_ boyfriend.”

“Sensible of you,” said Beth, following him out the door and to the elevator.

“I’m always the sensible one.”

This statement was belied by Josef’s choice of car.

“We’re taking a _limo_ on a _rescue mission?"_

“All of my other cars only have room for two. Sports cars aren’t exactly made for multiple people.”

“I’m not asking for a sports car, just not a limo. A _hearse_ limo.”

“I thought you would appreciate the humor.”

Beth glared at him, though privately she did think it was kind of funny. “You don’t have a single minivan? Or an SUV? Not even some fancy rich guy SUV?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in a minivan. My Escalade’s in the shop, and we don’t have time to be picky.”

“Pfff, fine,” said Beth. “But I’m reserving the right to complain.”

“If you complain, I won’t let you pick the tunes.”

His cell phone rang just as Josef started the car. “That was fast,” said Josef, answering it. “What have you got?” He typed an address into his GPS. “Thanks, Ryder. Now, I know this is redundant, but hunker down. I don’t know what it is we’re dealing with and I’d rather you be safe than sorry.” He hung up and pulled out of the garage.

“Where are we going?” Beth asked.

“Hidden River,” said Josef, “about two and a half hours out. The phone was a motel landline. On the one hand, that’s a good thing: it’s easier to trace than a cellphone. But they might have moved him since he called, or might move him in the time it takes us to get there.”

“But it’s a start.”

“Yeah,” said Josef, “it’s a start.”

The first hour and a half was almost fun. Josef had an impressive CD collection: a mix of the latest hits, old jazz, Czech folk songs, and–

“I didn’t know you were a Disney Channel fan. Or that you’re a twelve year old girl.”

“I’m not,” said Josef, “but ‘Stick to the Status Quo’ is _catchy_.”

By the second hour, however, Beth could tell that the time was taking its toll on Josef.

“You want to swap seats?” Beth asked. “You’re white-knuckling it.” She nodded at the wheel.

“I’m fine,” said Josef. “I’d rather not stop until we’re at least in the town.”

“You’re not fine,” said Beth. “You almost sideswiped the guy we passed a couple minutes ago.”

“I keep forgetting I’m not in a sports car and can’t make sharp turns.”

“Which is part of what makes me think you’re not fine.”

Josef let out a long, deep breath. “No,” he admitted. “I’m not. We’re going into a situation with little information, we didn’t have time to properly stock up and plan, and we have no idea if Mick’s even… well.”

“You can’t think that,” said Beth. “Otherwise there’s no point in going out there at all.”

“I know,” said Josef. “But I can’t rule it out as a possibility, either.”

“You know,” Beth said slowly, “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this. Not even when that guy was trying to kill you.”

“Different situation,” said Josef. “It’s not my life on the line here.”

Beth studied his face in profile, the subtle clench of his jaw and the line forming between his brows.

“You care about him,” said Beth. It came out more accusatory than she meant.

“Of course I do,” said Josef, “we’re friends.”

“But you care about him as more than that,” said Beth.

Josef didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, very quietly, he said, “At the risk of repeating myself, I wasn’t looking for it.” His eyes were very firmly fixed on the road.

“So what were you looking for?”

Josef sighed. “Nothing. He and Coraline were always… tumultuous. You know, he actually divorced her in ‘71? He might have done it sooner, but they didn’t have no-fault divorces then. And it’s hard to prove intolerable cruelty when your claim is ‘she turned me into a vampire, Your Honor.’ And then they were right back together in ‘74, and off again by ‘76. And every time he went off, he’d need someone to get his head on straight. Being with Coraline, sometimes he didn’t know which way was up.”

“So, you were just convenient?” Beth blurted out.

“No.” Josef chuckled. “Actually, if it had been that, I’d probably respect him less. I won’t say that I didn’t offer that–I don’t have all the hangups that he has, especially about relationships, and I’m not above helping out a friend in need. But no, it wasn’t that.”

“Then what was it?”

“We’re friends,” he said carefully. “Well, more than that. I like to think I was at least more stable than whatever he had with Coraline. And I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking he’s attractive. The term ‘friends with benefits’ didn’t exist yet, but that was what it was. That was _all_ it was.”

“And you never wanted more?”

He shrugged. “It didn’t really matter what I wanted. He always went back to Coraline, and I respected that. And you might have noticed he doesn’t exactly do ‘casual,’” he said, taking his hands off the wheel to make air quotes. “And anyway, I don’t feel that way for him, and I know he doesn’t feel that way for me. No instant love-at-first-sight heart flutters for me. Not like…”

“Not like Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” said Beth, “I’m not sure if that’s true for him.”

Josef scoffed. “Right.”

“No, I mean it,” Beth said slowly, the pieces starting to fit together in her head. “You didn’t hear us after Mick thought you’d died, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mick was…” Beth bit her lip. “I’ve never seen him like that. He actually cried in my arms. He said he’d lost friends, but you were different, that he didn’t even know how to properly mourn you. That losing you was like losing history.”

“Yeah, well,” Josef said, “we do have that. History.”

“Ha ha.”

“Look,” said Josef, “I won’t try to cut in on you and Mick, if that’s what you’re worried about. I do have some notion of boundaries and propriety, even if I’m not as picky about them as Mick is.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Beth protested. Josef raised his eyebrows. “Okay, maybe a little. No one’s immune to jealousy. But honestly, if I had to worry about a vampire, uh, _cutting in_ on our relationship, I’d be more worried about Coraline than you.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

Beth shrugged. “Maybe this isn’t a good time to have this conversation–”

“–you say that like there _is_ a good time–”

“–because Mick isn’t here to speak for himself.” She raised her eyebrows at Josef. “I’m just saying, I’m not upset that you care about him. Or that you… have a history. I’m just–” She stopped.

She wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking at Josef: a dark lump on the side of the road, maybe some hundred yards out. Why it caught her eye, she didn’t know–it blended in with the scrub and shadows of the desert around it–but she reached out instinctively and grabbed Josef’s hand.

“Josef,” she said. “Stop the car and turn around.”

Mercifully, he didn’t argue with her. He slammed on the brakes and executed a masterful three point turn, then pulled over.

There, out on the horizon, was an unmoving shape, with parts of it glinting faintly in the light of the noon sun.

* * *

“Oh my God,” said Beth. “Is that–”

“Yeah, that’s him. And I don’t see him moving, which makes me think he’s been staked.”

“I’ll take him–” Beth started to say, unbuckling her seatbelt, but Josef stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“No. I will.”

“But the sun,” said Beth. “Won’t it burn you?”

“I won’t be out long,” said Josef. “And I don’t want you out there.”

“Why?”

“You know the puzzle with the fox, the chicken, and the bag of grain?” Josef asked. Beth nodded, confused. “You’re the bag of grain. Mick’s been out there for a while, possibly hours. In this sun, he’ll be delirious. He’ll bite you and not be able to stop himself from draining you dry. I need you to switch with me: you’ll be driving us home. Close that.” He motioned to the partition between the driver’s and the passenger compartment. “The less he can smell you, the better. And stay in the car.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Like I’ve never heard that before. Wait, if I’m the bag of grain, are you saying Mick’s the chicken?”

“I mean it only in the kindest of ways.”

“If that makes you the fox, you’re not supposed to be left alone with him, either. That’s how the puzzle works.”

“I’m an extremely well-disciplined fox. And Mick doesn’t taste that great.”

“How do you– oh.”

“Yup. And now you’ve made it awkward. Anyway–” He stepped out of the car.

The difference between his air-conditioned, UV-protected limo and the wave of heat that hit him as he stepped out of it was acute, almost enough to knock the wind out of him. He could feel the familiar burn on the exposed skin of his hands and the back of his neck, but he ignored it. He wouldn’t be out long; ten minutes, tops. He could handle it for ten minutes.

He started at a brisk walk, picking his way neatly through the brush, but as he came closer, he broke into a run. Mick was naked from the waist up, and bound spread-eagle on the ground with silver chains attached to large silver spikes, like one a railroad might use. A wooden stake was buried in his heart. The skin around his wrists was red and blistered, as if someone had poured hot oil on them. Josef knew without looking that Mick’s ankles were in the same condition. Even paralyzed, his face was a contorted mask of pain, his eyes closed. If they were open, Josef knew, they would be jaundiced.

“Okay,” Josef said aloud, “where to start?” Mick didn’t say anything, for obvious reasons, but Josef kept talking. If pressed, he could say he was doing it for Mick’s benefit, and not because he’d suddenly gotten a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. Something was _wrong_ , but what exactly escaped him.

He shook his head. He had other priorities. “Chains first, stake later. Then I don’t have to worry about you jumping on Beth as soon as I get you to the car.”

He hadn’t thought to bring along bolt cutters or anything else useful, but the spikes weren’t buried too deep. Whoever had done this obviously didn’t expect Mick to be able to tug on them himself. Shrugging off his suit jacket, he wrapped it around the spike securing the chain around Mick’s left wrist, using it as he might an oven mitt, to protect his hands. “I loved this suit,” he said. “Yves Saint Laurent. I hope you appreciate how much I sacrifice for you. Your girlfriend’s in the car, by the way. Thought you shouldn’t see her until you’re a bit less inclined to drink her dry. You know, since you care about that sort of thing.”

The first spike gave way with a lurch. He moved to the second, at Mick’s other hand. “Now, as your closest and smartest friend, I advise you to milk this for all its worth. Get some TLC, maybe a blowjob or two, whatever, knock yourself out.” The second spike was free. “You deserve it, after… all this.” He gestured vaguely in Mick’s direction, then moved to his right leg.

“Seriously, talk about overkill. The stake I get, if they thought it’d kill you. The sun and the silver, I get, if they just wanted to hurt you and _not_ kill you. But both at once–” He stopped, the third spike in his hand.

 _That_ was what was bugging him: the stake. Was it really just overkill, a bunch of dumbass newbies who decided to just throw different vampire-killing methods at the wall and see what stuck? Or was all this–pinning Mick to the ground in broad daylight, shackling him with silver, and staking him so he couldn’t even struggle against his bonds–deliberate on the part of whoever captured him?

Josef started on the shackle around Mick’s left leg, but this time he didn’t just pry it out of the ground. Using the jacket, he carefully examined the spike, the chain, then the shackle itself.

There. The ring of the shackle was closed by a metal bolt held in place by nuts. Both ends of the bolt were engraved with two tiny S’s, one on top of the other, arranged so that the bottom of one S and the top of the other formed a chain.

What the _fuck_ were the Sanguisugis Scrutatores doing here?

“I hate being validated in my own paranoia,” Josef said, wrenching the final peg out of the ground roughly. He scooped Mick up in a bridal carry, the silver chains still dangling from his wrists and ankles, and ran for the car. Mick’s head lolled against his shoulder with every step, his eyelids flickering.

Josef laid him on the floor of the limo and slammed the door closed. He reached into the minibar and started pulling ice out of the cooler by the handful, ignoring the little bottles of liquor that spilled out in his haste.

“Beth,” he said, opening the partition, “I need you to drive.”

“Drive where?”

“We’re going to a safe house I have set up in Palm Springs. L.A.’s not safe right now and frankly, I don’t think Mick is going to make it if we wait another two hours.”

He told her the address, letting her plug it into the limo’s GPS. Then he turned his attention to the vamp on the floor of the car. He packed the ice at Mick’s pulse points: the sides of the neck, the armpits, the groin. Meltwater ran in rivulets down his exposed skin.

“Okay,” Beth asked once they were on the highway, “what’s going on? Why are we running? You said we had to keep the window closed so that–”

“Yeah, I know what I said,” Josef snapped. “It’s the Sanguisugis Scrutatores. And before you ask, ‘Oh, Josef, what’s the San-linguini Screwed-a-whatsit?’, they’re vampire hunters.”

“Seriously? Actual vampire hunters.”

“Well, they’re not the Scooby Gang. I’ve never known them to leave Europe. They’re very old school: lots of ominous Latin chanting and incense.”

“And they got Mick.”

“Yes,” Josef said. He picked up a piece of half-melted ice and held it to Mick’s fever-hot face.

“Why would they be here?”

“Presumably they’re making the leap to the New World a couple hundred years later than the rest of us,” said Josef. “And from what Mick said before he hung up, they’re after all the vampires in L.A.”

“Ambitious of them.”

“Par for the course, for hunters.” Resigned to the utter ruination of his jacket, Josef rolled it up and put it under Mick’s head. “But that’s why I have so many boltholes.”

* * *

The drive was mercifully short, made shorter by Beth going fifteen over the limit on the highway. Josef’s Palm Springs house was more understated than his others: mid-century modern with state-of-the-art air conditioning and long blinds over the picture windows. Josef quickly carried Mick out of the car and to the door, thankful that super vampire speed meant none of his neighbors would look out and see him carrying a shirtless man into his house in broad daylight. Beth locked the door behind them.

“Blood and ice are in the kitchen freezer,” said Josef. He nodded down the hall. “He’ll need both as soon as he starts moving. You’ll want to pop the blood in the microwave for a couple minute or two just so it’s warm instead of frozen.”

Beth did as she was bid; Josef carried Mick’s limp body to the bedroom, laying him gently on the floor in front of the freezer that acted as his bed. Honestly, he was glad to get this part over with, and was glad that Mick had been unconscious for it. Being staked–helpless and paralyzed, but still totally able to perceive everything around him–was one of Josef’s personal fears.

Beth returned with a glass, a couple of bags of blood, and another, larger bag of ice. Josef dumped the latter into the freezer, then selected a bag of A negative and put it within reach of Mick’s head.

“Okay, shackles first. Now, I just need a–” Beth was pulling something out of her purse: a long, thin case. “Or not. Mick teach you how to pick locks?”

“Nope, boyfriend in college. My life doesn’t revolve around Mick, you know.” She fiddled with locks imprisoning Mick’s wrist, unhampered by the silver. The shackle clicked open. The skin underneath was blistered even more heavily than the skin around it, practically charred. Beth put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God.”

“Yeah, silver sucks. You should probably–”

“–do the others. Yeah.” She was breathing too fast; Josef could hear her pulse skyrocket.

“Beth. _Beth._ Look at me.”

Beth tore her gaze from the ravaged flesh on Mick’s arm.

“He’s going to be fine.” Josef tried to remind _himself_ of that fact, too; he didn’t like the look of those burns, either, but panicking wouldn’t help Mick. “We’re going to get some blood in him and he’s going to be fine.”

“O-okay.”

“So you’ll unlock him and I’ll unstake him and we’ll get this done real fast.”

“Okay.” Beth was breathing slower now, more calmly. She made quick work of the other locks, then picked up the discarded chains and put them out of reach on a chair.

“Okay, Mick, up and at ‘em,” said Josef. He gripped the stake firmly and ripped it from Mick’s chest.

Nothing happened.

The bloody hole in his chest didn’t close. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t _breathing._

“Mick?” Beth whispered. Then, louder, “ _Mick?_ Josef, is he–”

“No,” said Josef, trying and failing to not let his rising panic seep into his voice. Staking alone couldn’t kill, but the silver, the sunlight. Maybe they’d come too late. “No, no–” Josef started rolling up his left sleeve. There were no scars from the last time he’d done this, but he remembered how it had felt.

“What are you doing?”

“Sire’s blood heals mortal wounds. Technically I’m more his step-sire, but here’s hoping.”

He bit deeply into his own arm, then held it out over Mick’s open mouth, letting the droplets of blood fall onto his lips.

“Come on, Mick,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me now. Not like this.”

More drops. Josef prayed he’d judged the dose right. Sire’s blood was strong. A small amount could heal; too much, and it would invoke thrall. But it wasn’t enough, nothing was happening, it wasn’t helping, he had to stop but it wasn’t _enough._ It was Sarah all over again: he’d failed Mick just as much as he’d failed her. There was something wrong with his blood, something wrong with _him._ He slammed his bloody hands onto Mick’s chest in frustration. “Come _on,_ you _bastard_ –”

“Josef. Josef, _look_.”

The wound under his hands was closing. Already it was smaller than it had been, but before his eyes the skin and the flesh beneath was knitting itself together, the blood flowing less freely. Even the burns on his wrists and ankles were healing.

Mick gasped, his hands flailing, and Josef had just enough awareness through his haze of emotion to shove the bag of A negative in his face. Mick bit into it whole, and it burst, some of the blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. But he was drinking; he was alive. Beth wordlessly passed Josef another bag: he tore it open and poured it into the glass. Cradling Mick’s head with one hand, Josef lifted the glass to Mick’s lips with the other. Mick drank this bag, too, though more slowly, less frantically. When the glass was empty, he stopped, panting–in pain or in relief, Josef didn’t know.

Beth reached out cautiously to touch his face. Mick turned towards her.

“Beth?”

“Mick...” She pulled him into her lap, not caring about the blood still smeared across his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her waist like a child, her fingers in his hair. Josef started to stand up–all this gooey feelings shit wasn’t meant for him–but Beth grabbed his wrist.

“C’mere, you,” she said, and Josef sunk to his knees without meaning to, let her pull him into an awkward three-way hug.

“Ty _hajzle,_ ” he muttered into Mick’s shoulder, “jsi takový _debil–_ ”

“Don’ un’erstan’,” Mick slurred. “What’re–”

Josef laughed in relief. “I could tell you, but I don’t use that kind of language in front of ladies, St. John.”

Beth snorted.

Josef deepened the hug, subtly scanning Mick for further harm. His pulse was still weak and somewhat thready, which was unsurprising: freezing blood did help increase its shelf life, but it was a terrible way to store blood, even if you weren’t planning on drinking it. And he still hadn’t had time to recover from the sun.

“We should put you in the freezer for a bit,” Josef suggested as he pulled away. “Let you rest.”

Mick shook his head. “Not safe, it’s not–”

“Mick,” said Beth, holding his head in her hands. “I’m here. Josef’s here. And we’re not going to let anything happen. Understand?” Her tone brooked no argument. Mick nodded.

Cautiously, she held her arm out to Mick. Josef could see two scars there already. Her intent could not have been clearer, but Mick asked anyway. “Are you sure?”

“You almost _died_ ,” Beth said. “And don’t tell me that frozen stuff is as good as fresh. Yes. I’m sure.”

Mick hesitated for a moment, then bit down. Beth’s eyes fluttered shut, her whole body gravitating towards Mick as he drank from her in small, delicate sips.

“You kids be careful, now,” Josef said. “The last thing we need is overfeeding.”

Beth’s eyes were still closed, her face almost enraptured, but she still managed a quip. “Good thing I have this big strong vampire here to stop him if he gets too–”

There was a knock at the door.

“My o vlku, a vlk za dveřmi,” Josef muttered under his breath. Beth looked like she wanted to get up, but Josef silently waved her off. Even if she could stop the feeding now, there was no way she would be in fighting shape that quickly. He straightened his tie and went to the door.

There was a man there. He was well-dressed, in a blue pinstripe suit and shoes that were only slightly scuffed. He held up a badge. “Afternoon, sir. Is this your car?”

It was a good act. His voice was calm and collected: even his heartbeat didn’t quicken to betray a lie. It might have fooled Josef, but no smooth voice and forged badge could hide the smell of Mick on him: his pain, his fear, and beneath, the faint scent of his burned flesh. Josef felt his eyes go pale and his fangs emerge. In one fluid movement, Josef reached out, locked his hand around the man’s throat, and pulled him across the threshold to slam him against the foyer wall.

Distantly it occurred to Josef that exposing himself as a vampire to an elite group of vampire hunters was a bad idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to stop. Nor did he care about the thick silver chain around the man’s neck: Josef held on despite the burning in the palm of his hand.

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t bother with the shovel talk,” Josef snarled, his face mere inches from the other man’s. “Especially given all the fun I had this morning. But I’m being _extraordinarily_ generous today. More than you deserve.” He slid the man higher up the wall, tightening his grip. “So this is what you’re going do. Listen closely, because I won’t be repeating myself. You’re going to run back to your friends Buffy and Willow and you’re going to get out of California. And because I’m being so generous, I will give you a whole day’s head start before I start coming after you. And trust me, you won’t want me to catch up.”

He released him. “ _Get out_.”

The man stumbled out the door, clutching his throat. Josef waited until he was in his car and out of sight before he went back to the bedroom.

They were huddled on the floor together, Beth leaning against Mick’s chest. Mick was looking better, but still somewhat exhausted, as if he’d only lost a night’s sleep instead of being left to roast alive in the sun. Beth was looking a little pale herself. With Josef’s hand looking like he’d splashed it in acid, they made quite the matching set.

“Was that them?” Beth asked.

“Well, one of them,” said Josef. “I warned him off. But I know they won’t stick to it; we have to get out of here before they come back.” He reached out a hand to help her up: his right hand, the injured one. Quickly he switched to his left, but she’d already seen it.

“Oh my God,” said Beth. “What did you do to it?” She pointed to his palm.

“Nothing. Well, not a lot.”

Mick held out his own hand impatiently, and Josef reluctantly handed it over. Mick hissed in sympathy; Beth only covered her mouth.

“That’s a silver burn,” said Mick.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Guy had a silver necklace on. Probably to prevent exactly what I ended up doing,” Josef admitted.

“Which was?”

“Grabbing him by the throat and threatening him?”

Mick frowned at Josef, which was absurd, because Josef had not even finished Mick how stupid he’d been for getting himself kidnapped by sadistic vampire hunters.

“Do you need to feed?” Beth asked.

“I’ll wait until we get home,” Josef said. “No donations from you for another eight weeks,” he said sternly, wagging his finger, “and I am _so_ not in the mood for the frozen stuff right now.”

“Then I’ll drive us back,” Mick said. “Of the three of us, I’m the most recovered.”

“For a given value of ‘recovered,’” Josef muttered rebelliously. “But fine. But put on a shirt on first, unless you were planning to show off to every driver from here to L.A.”

“Where–”

“Upstairs,” Josef said. “Second door on the right.”

“Knowing you,” Mick said, “they’ll all be dress shirts.”

“Because I have taste.”

* * *

The car ride back to Josef’s penthouse–safer than Mick’s, more equipped than Beth’s–was subdued. Josef curled up in the back of the limo, the air conditioner on full blast, to catch up on sleep that had been rudely interrupted by, as he told Mick, “saving your ass at an ungodly hour.” In the front passenger seat, Beth napped. She awoke to Mick softly playing jazz on the radio and the smell of fast food.

“Mmm, where are we?” she asked.

“Just passed El Monte,” said Mick. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes or so.” He nodded in the direction of her lap. “I got you In-and-Out.”

Beth made a high-pitched noise of glee and tore into it. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’d smelled the food, but she needed it all in her, _now_.

“You need fluids and something with iron in it,” Mick said. “Though let me just say, it is hard to use a drive-through in the world’s most conspicuous car.”

“Blame Josef,” Beth said. “Apparently his Escalade is in the shop.”

Mick snorted, then fell silent. They drove on for another mile or two, the quiet only broken by the radio and Beth’s eager chewing. The Ink Spots started singing about how it’s a sin to tell a lie.

“So,” Beth said eventually, eating another fry. “You and Josef.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Beth said teasingly. “All your torrid love affairs.”

Mick looked away. “I– that was a long time ago.”

“Mick,” said Beth. She reached over to touch his hand where it rested on the gearshift. “I _know_. I know and I don’t care.” Mick looked dubiously at her. “What? I already knew you had vampire exes, it wasn’t the biggest surprise. Frankly I’m more surprised I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

Beth frowned. “Well, maybe only to me. Unless there’s other humans you’ve invited into the super secret vampire world?”

Mick huffed a laugh. “No. No, just you.”

“So spill.”

Mick turned the radio down. “What’s Josef told you already?”

“That he caught you on the rebound.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Mick said. He looked away again.

“How would _you_ put it?”

“Josef was… one of the first vampires I met, besides Coraline,” said Mick. “And I wasn’t in a good place, emotionally. When I broke up with Coraline the first time, I went to him. He had a spare freezer–which, by the way, was pretty expensive back then–and I knew him well enough that I thought I could trust him.”

“Is that when you–”

“No. Not then. It… it was the fifties. _That_ wasn’t until, oh, sometime in the mid sixties? I’d left Coraline after a good couple of years of wedded bliss, I was at Josef’s again, and I realized he’d been there for me almost as long as Coraline had without trying to change me into something I’m not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Josef thinks my scruples are weird and silly,” Mick explained, “especially drinking bagged blood, but he’s never tried to talk me out of them. He was the one who introduced me to Guillermo, actually. Coraline was just insulted that I cared about humans more than vampires.”

“But you kept going back to her.”

“There was a lot of passion in our relationship,” said Mick. “And Coraline, for all her faults, was truly committed to me. She wanted _me_ , and wouldn’t let herself be distracted by anyone else. When we were separated, she didn’t have so much as a one-night stand. I liked that, being her whole focus. Josef, well, I just thought he wasn’t a committing sort of guy: he had so many people in his life, and I was just one of them. And then we found out about Sarah…”

“...and you realized he was already committed.”

“I’d also already met _you_ by then, but yes.”

“Awww,” Beth said, genuinely touched.

“So whatever feelings we had between us just never had a chance to go anywhere,” said Mick.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I have you,” said Mick. “I shouldn’t need anyone else.”

“That’s not the same thing as _don’t_ ,” Beth pointed out.

They were approaching Josef’s building. Mick pulled into the underground garage and parked. “What do you want me to say?” he asked at last.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” Beth said, “just the truth.”

“I made my choice,” Mick said. “I chose you.”

“But what if–”

Josef was tapping on the window, looking a bit rumpled. The line across his palm looked better, less raw and painful. Mick and Beth got out of the car.

“Interesting conversation you’re having,” said Josef. Mick looked embarrassed.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, for an hour or two. But then I heard my name and, well, my ears started burning.” Beth knew vaguely that Josef was a bit shorter than Mick, but it was more obvious now. He looked more embarrassed than Mick did. They looked at each other, each daring the other to speak first.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Beth said. “You’re both such _babies_.”

Josef opened his mouth to make a comeback; Mick looked exasperated.

“Nope,” Beth said, “we’re not having this conversation in a parking lot. Come on.” She marched toward the elevator. Bemused, both vampires followed her until they got to Josef’s penthouse, where both of them sat on his luxurious couch like teenagers who’d been caught out after curfew.

“Since we’re all talking about our feelings, let’s talk about mine,” Beth said. “Mick, I don’t want you to be unhappy, or feel like you can’t say stuff around me. And I don’t want to be the reason you and Josef feel like you can’t talk to each other. So, I think we can agree that you both think each other are hot, and we also can agree that you both had some kind of feelings for each other that neither of you ever talked about or acted upon, so why don’t you just stop dancing around it and _kiss each other already?_ ”

“I can’t–” Mick started to say. “Beth, what about you?”

“Mick, I’m not saying you have to choose,” Beth said. “I’m saying you could _choose us both_.” She paused. “I mean, if you both want that.”

She took a moment to savor the twin absolutely dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

“I– _what?_ ” said Josef.

“Oh, come on,” Beth said with glee, “don’t tell me you’ve never run into polyamory in four hundred years.”

Josef sputtered. “Not– not in the way you’re thinking of.”

“Vampires are more casual?”

“Vampires have a different idea of what constitutes ‘commitment.’ Everlasting love is a bit different when you actually _have_ forever.”

“We don’t have to last forever,” Beth said. “We could just… try it. For however long it lasts.”

“Is that what _you_ want,” Mick asked, “or what you think _I_ want?”

“Hmmm, _two_ attractive men in my life?” said Beth, pretending to think. “Sounds hard, but I guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

Mick wavered. Very slowly, Beth walked forward, sat on the couch between them, and kissed Mick softly, her fingers twining through his hair. “I love you,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “ _You_ , on the other hand...” She turned to Josef. “It’ll take a bit before we get there.”

“What, you haven’t been won over by my good looks and charm yet?” Josef said. “I’m shocked.” Beth kissed him, a delicate touch of her lips on his: now he was _actually_ shocked. He sat there for a moment, a bit dazed.

Then: “Mick,” Josef said, actually getting up off the couch to stand in front of him.

“What?” Mick asked.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” This kiss was not gentle: Josef grabbed the front of Mick’s shirt and pulled him in hard, conveying the desperation he’d felt earlier. They came up for air, gasping.

“Likewise,” Mick said.

“When did I–”

“Oh, I don’t know, remember that bomb that went off in your office? Because I do.”

“Like that’s even remotely the same thing as being kidnapped by a bunch of sadistic vampire hunters. Which reminds me, I need to call Ryder again,” Josef said, the mood passed. “Tell him to get the word out that the Sanguisugis Scrutatores are in L.A. and that everyone should be on guard. And then I’m holing up in here until it’s blown over.”

“Or we could fight them,” said Mick. “Strike now while they’re still figuring out what to do after I escaped without telling them anything.”

“Or,” Beth said, “we take an hour or two to relax before going off and risking our lives again.”

Mick looked guiltily at her; she waved him off. “Don’t give me that look,” Beth said. “We just escaped the scary anti-vampire Illuminati. And I’m feeling a bit drained, for obvious reasons. I want to cuddle.”

Mick and Josef looked at each other. “You heard the lady,” Mick said. “We’re cuddling.”

Beth chose a spot tucked into Mick’s shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around her. Mick sat in the middle, Josef leaning against his other shoulder. Beth’s breathing eventually slowed and evened, but Mick stayed awake, unable to relax fully with the knowledge of danger that threatened them. There were things that still needed doing: alerting the L.A. vampires, making a plan, finding blood for Josef to finish healing his hand.

As if he’d spoken the thought aloud, Josef said, “Sleep. You need it. I’ll even stay up if it makes you feel better.”

Mick chuckled, then let himself relax. They were there. They were safe. Surrounded on all sides, Mick surrendered.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy howdy, this was a lot to write. I don't think I've written this much for one fic since 2015.
> 
> Some notes:
> 
>   * The title is from Evanescence's "All That I'm Living For," because I heard "My Immortal" playing over the last scenes of the first episode and I fucking lost it. I therefore thought that titling my fic thus was fitting for the fandom.
>   * You'd think that since I lived through the early 2000s that I'd have a good idea of the culture, but I still found myself Googling what year car GPS systems came out and what music was popular. Would you believe _High School Musical_ was four times platinum in 2006?
>   * My writing process for this fic involved: 
>     * binge-watching _Moonlight_ very slowly over a period of weeks
>     * having to change bits as I realized that what I'd written was contradicted by canon
>     * complaining to the whump chat about my writing (thank you, ouchthatwasgood and WhumpBlurb!)
>     * complaining to my partners about my writing (that the limo be a _hearse_ limo was my girlfriend's idea)
>   * While I wouldn't say it was inspired by her fic (at least, not enough that I'd click the "this work was inspired by" thing when uploading), I did borrow a tad from [Sanguinis Debitum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187677) by DulcetAsh, namely in the properties of sire's blood and having Josef speak Czech. Incidentally, if you love whump and Beth/Mick/Josef OT3, you should absolutely read that story.
>   * Speaking of Josef's Czech, which I procured through Google Translate and Wikipedia: 
>     * "Ty hajzle, jsi takový debil" = "You bastard, you're such an idiot."
>     * "My o vlku, a vlk za dveřmi" = "Speak of the wolf, and the wolf is at your door" (that is, "speak of the Devil and he shall appear").
>   * As for my equally-terrible Latin, "Scrutatores" is the plural nominative form of "searcher" or "investigator." "Sanguisugis" is the plural dative form of a word that literally means "blood sucker" (which can apply to either vampires or leeches). So I'm hoping "Sanguisugis Scrutatores" means something along the lines of "Hunters of the Bloodsuckers."
> 



End file.
